Blackmailed
by hts64
Summary: There is no way to count the amount of things that can happen when your brother's addicted to drugs and your dad is surely drunk and probably a junkie as well. All the wrong things happened to Karen, AKA Michelle after being blackmailed by the UL Paper into being their spy. Rated M for strong language, strong sexual content, use of drugs and alcohol, and violence
1. PLEASE READ!

**PLEASE READ**

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This story is written in Karen/Michelle's point of view, starting before she arrives in Liberty City. I've worked very hard on this story, creating new characters and reusing some created by Rockstar Games, such as Karen herself. I would like to thank everyone who decides to read this story for their support. I really hope that I don't end up giving up on this story. As you can see, the beginning is based on a day-to-day schedule, but soon the days become vague as even she can't remember them herself. Since the book begins in 1995, when Karen is just 14, and I want her to end up moving to Liberty City somewhere around her 18th birthday, this story could be pretty long. Pretty much every event in this story is my interpretation of what happened to make Karen "Michelle." If you pay close attention, you'll notice reasons for her personality. For example, in the game Michelle likes pretty much every car but beaters and emergency cars, so her past must have an explanation for that!

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Please enjoy and **please **_**review **_**this story**! Without any feedback, how am I to know what's good and bad? Thank you!


	2. Chapter 1: Hide

**September 18, 1995**

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I felt the sweat collecting in the creases of my palms as I walked toward my home. I knew my father was there with his beater Emperor. He could never afford a car that could actually move without complications. Well, he probably could if he hadn't quit his job and started smoking cigarettes. He probably smokes pot too, but making assumptions will get me nowhere.

I swerved around the corner, making sure there was always a wall between the front door and me so that I could hide. I clenched my fists and ran toward the next available cover. It was a little, blue Intruder. I didn't live in the best neighborhood, but at least I had a home. It may be trashed with broken windows and cars that you could get for an hours worth of work, but I had to be happy with what I had.

I decided it was time to pass the Intruder and make a run for my next-door neighbor's side yard. It had plenty of bushes to hide in, just in case my father came storming out drunkenly. As soon as I arrived, I felt my breathing quicken. I came all this way to come inside, trying to hide from my father, but now it's time to confront him. I've put it off long enough. I can't live in my neighbor's yard, though, so it's time to go inside.

I walked slowly and gracefully toward my door, otherwise my father would call me a "cheap whore who's trying to run from her elderly customers." My brother, Craig, would normally laugh at it. He decided to deal with my father the same way my father dealt with life, by drinking and smoking. I knew for a fact Craig was a big coke addict. I don't know where he got his supply, but I've seen it. I'm sure he smokes weed, the popular thing for kids his age, and for all I know he does heroine. I won't get into that, though. At least I hope I don't.

I put the key in the lock, opening my door. As soon as the door was ajar I noticed something different. The house was somewhat clean, I suppose. I was worried as soon as I saw it. I knew something must have happened. Maybe mom came home and realized how terribly dad was treating us and called the police, making sure to clean the place up a bit beforehand.

As if there was a murderer in the house, I made sure my feet made no noise as I slowly walked toward the kitchen. As soon as I reached it, I looked toward the cabinets. The cheap, plastic handles were crooked, some of which hanging off the wood. I opened the cabinet and found Craig's supply. Clearly nobody official was here.

I wondered if Mom would have taken it away. I haven't seen her since she got scared and ran off, realizing she wouldn't be able to take care of us. That was before Dad was a drunk bastard, so she thought he'd be able to at least feed us. Instead I'm the family's income, working three days a week at the local grocery store for about $6 an hour from when school got out at 3 to the latest time I was allowed to work, 8. Every other cent I scratch up is from doing chores for the neighbors.

I called out for anyone, either Craig or my father, hoping my mother wouldn't be the one to reply. Luckily, Craig came down. Unluckily, he looked like a deer in headlights. "You gotta hide my shit, Karen!" he exclaimed worriedly. "What the hell is going on?" I asked in return.

"'Em Smith's threatened to call protective child services or whoever the hell those people are!" Craig replied.

"Of course, the Smith's think they're helping but they're just messing up the situation."

"Fuck, Karen, if cops see the shit I've got I'll be in prison for life! I'm already 16, I'm sure they'll give me an adult's sentence! You have to know someone who'd be too afraid to use the shit but not so much of a pussy as to turn you down, right?"

"Craig, if I weren't working all day to support your drug ass, I'd be in the honors society. You think _any _of my friends are emotionally capable of hiding illegal substances? They are not willing to save you."

"I'll pay 'em if I must!"

"You mean I'd be paying them. You haven't earned a dime since a week after you turned 15 and got hooked on that stuff. You've gotta be responsible because I can't take care of everyone in this house."

"It ain't fair Karen. You don't understand. I've been tryin' to save Dad all my life and all you did was try an' study. Least I tried to help the family rather than myself!"

"Maybe that's why you're in this situation."

With my reply, he was stunned. He paced around and took a big jar of marijuana and walked outside with it. Who knows what he's doing, but I'm almost positive he'll get caught.

I walked to Dad's room to give my father the few quarters I had found on the ground working here. He was lying on the bed looking at the ceiling. "I'm sick," he muttered, "Sick of the FIB trying to get involved in my life! I can take care of myself." I had to agree with what he said, no matter how bizarre it was. If he were to say that Mom took all our money with her, I was to agree no matter what I believed.

I soon left and began the rest of my life from that moment. I didn't know what was coming next. I didn't know I'd regret what I would do the next day. I didn't know I was about to completely ignore every one of my morals, just for my family's sake. I didn't know I was a goner.


End file.
